


If You Love Me

by Smoke_and_Perfume



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Pre-Series, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 14:06:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2775788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smoke_and_Perfume/pseuds/Smoke_and_Perfume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Winchester is ready to leave for Stanford and get away from the Hunter life. It's the hardest thing he's ever had to do, but he's determined to do it. No smut, just a lot of feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Love Me

Sam is sitting at the kitchen table in the abandoned house. The place is filthy but John had been trying to stay low key lately. He had mentioned something about a run in with the law on their last hunt, so a motel in the middle of town is out of the question.

  
The house they’d found is just off a seldom travelled road in southern Kentucky. A family of raccoons had made their home in the walls, but his dad had gotten rid of them pretty easily. It still smells like them, and moldy with layers of dust and grime on the counters and peeling wallpaper. The electricity still works, so whoever had rented the place must have left in the last few months. Sam figured it had belonged to whoever owned the orchard on the other side of the road, but no one had come by yet. All he can think is how much he wants to leave.

  
He’d finished off the last of the cold pizza and it is threatening to come back up. His knee bounces anxiously as he tries to figure out what to say. He had rehearsed it over and over, yet nothing seems right. There is simply no way to break the news without a blow out, he knows that. I’m leaving, for school. For Stanford.  
And you can’t stop me.

  
It is his eighteenth birthday. For most boys, that means a party with high school buddies at someone’s parents’ house. It would mean legally buying cigarettes, maybe even a cake with candles at home. Any other family would insist on going out to dinner, hugging and throwing the Stanford acceptance letter in the neighbors’ faces. For Sam Winchester, it means waiting for his brother and father to come home and tell them he is leaving.

  
He had always felt like a freak, but right now he feels like he is living someone else’s life. Tomorrow, he would begin a new life. Where he could be normal. Why is that such a hard thing for them to accept?

  
They had never said outright that he would be forbidden to go to college, but he picked it up in passing. Dean changing the channel when a college advertisement came on. His father tapping aggressively on the wheel that time they passed an old historical school, complete with ivy growing on some of the stone buildings. The word college spat like a slur as they passed the students with their hoodies and walkmen, weighed down by thick books. The image had stuck with him, as he knew John feared. Sam could see himself walking among them, rushing to class, poring over those books and laughing with young men working towards a doctorate or legal degree. He didn’t see himself in the Impala, driving down the road with his father and brother nursing wounds and cleaning shotguns. He’s an adult now, and he has a choice.  
The only thing holding him back is his brother.

  
In fact, Dean is the only reason he never left for good. He ran off that one time after a heated fight with their Dad in Flagstaff. That had become more and more common. Sam stepped out of line and John would get on him about it. Don’t go there, Sam. That’s not how you do it, Sam. There was just so much Sam couldn’t do. He couldn’t be alone, he couldn’t play baseball, couldn’t just be a kid. And as much as he tried, he never felt like he was meant to be a hunter. John was bad, but even Dean would correct him, as he always had, like a second parent. He didn’t know about John, but Sam knew Dean was only trying to do the right thing. But with the two of them keeping him on a tight leash, he couldn’t breathe. So he left. That was the first time he was really on his own. He lived off of funions and mr. pibb. He had even found a stray dog he named Bones to keep him company.

  
It was heaven.

  
But the bed started to feel lonely at night, even with the soft retriever cuddling up to him. It wasn’t the same, he needed his brother. He woke up alone, and scared. He thought about his brother waking up, too, looking out the window and wondering where he could be. He could hear Dean whisper, “Where are you, brother?” and it twisted his gut. The second week, he went back. The elder Winchesters were there within hours to pick him up, livid but relieved.

  
He had been a kid then. There had always been this pang in his gut for something else, but the older he got, the stronger the pang, until he knew he needed more. He loves his brother, wishes it didn’t have to be this way, but Dean would never leave their father. He’s too loyal, too obedient. Dean had been fine hopping around, and if he wanted to stay at any of the schools, missed any of the girls he flirted with, he never told Sam. And why would he?

  
Sam had wanted to stay in a school longer than a few weeks. He wanted friends, a place to come home to that wasn’t a motel room. He wanted more to do than making bullets and sneaking time on the computer when his dad wasn’t looking, more than sneaking out to go to the library.

  
Dean kept him warm and safe. Dean was always there, and he expected Sam to do the same. He loved the weeks John would be gone, and it was just the two of them, even though he was worried sick. At least no one could tell them they couldn’t sleep in the same bed, no one could tell them to take their hands off each other. Aside from Flagstaff, Sam Winchester had always woken up to the scent of Dean, knew his brother had kissed him good morning before he even woke up. But with John around, it was like walking on eggshells. Dean shifted into soldier mode where Sam wanted to be open, but it would never be that way.

  
Sam would always miss Dean cooking him breakfast, cutting his hair, snuggling under the covers as they watched a scary movie and laughed at the fake monsters. Two days ago they had taken John’s laptop to watch a movie that Dean had stolen. They turned the volume loud enough that John couldn’t hear Sam’s moans, even though he insisted John was passed out and Dean didn’t have to worry.

  
He felt sick again, knowing he was about to push Dean away, but he couldn’t have given him any hints. If they knew that he had called Bobby a week ago to pick him up tonight, John would have called to tell him he was out of line. Sam couldn’t risk losing his ride to the airport. As much as he hoped for it, Dean would never drive him away from their family. All Dean would see is Sam walking away from him. As far as Sam knows, Dean can’t see how badly Sam wants a life that doesn’t leave him sitting in an old house on the side of the road eating cold pizza and trying not to throw it up because he needs space. A lot of space. It’s John and Dean, or no one. And Sam just can’t live like this anymore.  
A deep purr and screech of tires announces his brother and father’s arrival. Only one headlight shines through the window, but he would know the Impala anywhere. Stay calm, Sam, he tells himself. He does feel a little calmer, a little less sick. Excited, even. This is it, this is his chance. In less than five minutes, you can be out that door. A legal adult. And no one can tell you otherwise. No dad, no brother to tell you what to do.

The purr comes around the side of the house and dies leaving dead silence. Then one clunk of a door slamming shut, and another

Maybe I’m wrong, he thinks. Maybe at least Dean will understand.

The slushing and sucking of boots in mud come around to the front...

His heart pounds fast but steady in his ears and against his ribcage.

The wooden squeak of the steps, a dull pattern of thuds...

Please understand, Dean.

His father swings the door open, not meeting his eyes. Dean follows behind, carrying a brown bag that brings a sweet smell into the room, strange and out of place in the moldy house. He grins wide, too wide, and sets the bag on the counter next to the fridge where John is taking out a beer.

“Happy birthday, Sammy!” Dean takes a cake out of the bag and sets it in front of Sam. He steps back and stands hesitantly, as if preparing to jump on a bomb while still hoping silverware will be needed.

“Happy birthday, son.” It sounds staged, like Dean may have had to remind him. Maybe he did. Not that it matters.

“Thanks.”

“Got you a cake!” Dean claps his hands together. “And uh....” he pulls out a movie from the bag, too, staring at the title before setting that in front of Sam as well. “Your favorite! Movie night. Unless you wanted to do something else…”

The unassuming look in his older brother’s eyes draws guilt out of his stomach like a blood into a syringe, but there’s no going back. He doesn’t want to. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.” He has to say it soon, or he will say it all wrong. He wants to be honest. He doesn’t want to hurt them, but they aren’t really giving him a choice.  
John finishes his Miller and goes into the fridge for another. Sam figures he must have considered this by now. It’s not like they’ve been on great terms. Dean, on the other hand…

“Yeah, what’s up?” His brother keeps his position, a nervous smile plastered on his face. He knows he’s about to break up a fight, he just doesn’t know what it will be about this time.

Sam clears his throat. “I applied to a few schools last winter. I got accepted into Stanford.”

Dean’s face drops into disbelief. John’s frown turns dark, his red eyes focused.

“That’s great, Sam. But you can’t go.”

Of course his dad would say that. Of course he would think he could stop him, make him think he doesn’t have a choice.

“I’m eighteen, Dad-”

“And I’m still your father. You’re not going.”

Sam’s blood boils. He’s on his feet before he can think about it, and Dean is in front of him with a hand on his chest. He thinks he hears Dean say, “Think about this, Sammy,” but he’s not sure. He can only feel his blood rushing. He only sees the stubborn, creased face staring at him as if it could stop time itself, and an eighteen year old boy? No problem.

“I’m leaving. You can’t stop me.”

“Sam-”

“Stop, Dean.” He shoves his brother’s hand away. “This is what I want. This is my chance, why can’t you see that!?”

“Sam, there are monsters no matter where you go. There are monsters down the road and monsters at Stanford. They’ll FIND you, you can be sure of that.”

“Well I’m sure as hell not staying in any more stinking hotel rooms,” he scoffed, gesturing the ramshackle kitchen and floorboards. “Or roadside shacks. I want a life, Dad, away from the life. I’m not going to be a hunter, I’m going to be a lawyer.”

“And what about the people we save doing this? You think being some guy in a suit is more important than that?”

“No one’s gonna miss one guy on the job, Dad.” He knows that must have hurt Dean, but he is hurting him anyway. “I can do this.”

John shakes his head, laughing with disbelief as if he is five and insisting he had seen a unicorn. “Sam… hunters don’t get to have those dreams. We don’t get that life. You’re wasting your time, son. You’re only setting yourself up for disappointment.”

“Is this what mom would have wanted?” He knows it is dangerous to bring her up, but now the cat is out of the bag, he isn’t afraid of anything. Not of monsters, not the idea of failure, and certainly not of John.

“SAM!”

John shoves away from the fridge. A vein is throbbing against his right eye like a worm under the skin. “You shut your mouth about Mary. You don’t know shit about what she’d want.”

“Yeah? We’ll I’m sure she wouldn’t want this.”

Sam sees black spots and belatedly feels a sting on his cheekbone where John hit him. Dean grabs his arm but John throws him off.

Sam stares his father in the eye. “Go ahead. Hit me. See what difference it makes. I’m still leaving.” He clenches his fists, ready to throw one back.

“You don’t know what you’re doing, boy.”

“I’m not a boy anymore. I know what I want.”

“Sam, please. You don’t want this.”

“How would you know, Dean? You don’t know the first thing about what I want. You want what you want.”

He didn’t mean to say that. With John, it didn’t matter, but he didn’t want to hurt Dean. He might have to, if he is going to really do this, just to make him understand. His brother is breathing heavy, as if a doctor just told him Sam is dying. For him, he may as well be.

“Fine.” John stands up straight and grabs his beer. “If that’s what you want, leave. But don’t expect me to help with anything.”

“I don’t,” Sam spits, watching John retreat up the stairs.

He goes into the back room where his bag is packed. Dean follows him and slams the door.

“You’re not thinking this through.”

“That’s just it, Dean!” He turns around to face his brother. “I’ve thought about this for years. I’ve planned it for months. I don’t want this life, man. I don’t want to be on the road, eating at pit stops and sleeping in the car with dad on our backs all the time.”

 

Dean is shaking his head, eyes turning red and wet. His jaw clenches in the effort to stop them but they fall anyway. He has never seen his brother cry, not like this.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Dean. But this is not what I want. I want to make my own way. I want safety, I want… I want a family.” There, he said it. If he wants freedom, he needs to aim high. He wants the whole nine, rugrats and a beautiful person to crawl in bed with every night, because he knows it will never be just him and Dean. Not for a long, long time, and he can’t wait for that to happen, can’t endure this paramilitary lifestyle anymore. If it could just be him and Dean, away from the life… but that would never happen. Sam wants to be a better father than his own, wants to look his own kid in the eye and tell him he can do whatever he wants and he’ll be loved anyway. He used to fantasize about that with Dean, still does sometimes. But he knows that’s all it is, a fantasy. All he can hope for right now is to get his ass out of here and to Stanford.  
Dean can barely look him in the eye. “But I’m your family.”

They had been together almost every day of their lives. He knows Dean better than anyone ever would. How is his brother so blind to what Sam wants, more than anything? Staring at his wide eyed, pleading brother, he finally understands that Dean can’t comprehend that Sam might want a different life, away from everything. Dean has everything he needs. Sam doesn’t.

“Damn it, Dean…” he pushes back his hair, pulling it in exasperation. “Damn it. You are my family, Dean. You’ll always be my brother, this doesn’t change that.”

“If you leave…” Dean’s voice wavers and breaks before he coughs to clear it. “...I can’t protect you. I might never get to see you again.” He knows Dean has had nightmares about it, coming back to find his brother cold on the floor. Dean wants to be there, needs to be with Sam, to protect him.

He grabs Dean by the shoulders, gripping tight into the canvas jacket. “I’ll be fine, Dean. I promise.” He is trying to be patient, but now he can feel how cut off he is, the hot proximity of his brother standing between him and the way out. It had always been Dean keeping him here, pulling him back. Maybe Dean could put up with their father. Dean could play the good soldier- but that just isn’t him.

“No, Sam.” Dean shakes his head as Sam drops his hands to grab his bag. Dean’s eyes follow quickly, like a rabbit’s, from the bed, back to his brother. “You can’t know that. There’s a reason hunters never leave the life, and it’s not because they aren’t smart enough to get into Stanford. I know you’re smart enough to make it, that’s not it. That’s why it’s sad. You’re more than capable. But Sammy… there’s no such thing as safety.”

“Then why not do what I need to do?”

“You need to stay with your family... Please, don’t leave me,” he begs. “Sam, please.” He drops his eyes, gripping his short hair. “Don’t do this to me.”

“Dean, if you really believe in me, if you really love me… let me go.”

When he doesn’t say anything, Sam moves to walk past him. Dean shoves him back towards the bed, one handed.

“You’re not leaving, Sam.” His voice is deep and uneven like the purr of the Impala on the highway, and just as aggressive. “You’re not doing this.” He backs up, blocking the door. “I won’t let you.”

“What are you gonna do, Dean? Tie me to the bed?”

Dean’s breathing is heavy, fast. “I’ve got handcuffs.”

“And tomorrow?”

He shrugs, not meeting his eyes.

“And the next day? Dean, this is pointless. I’m going.” He moves for the door and Dean side steps in front of him. Sam’s fists clench, nails digging into his palms and the pain reminds him of what he doesn’t want to inflict on his brother. Dean is coming from a different place than John, he knows that. Dean is just as protective, but he isn’t as selfish as their father.

Sam takes a breath, exhales slow. “Dean,” he whispers. “This is my chance. Dad won’t understand, and I don’t care if he does. But I want your support here. I need you to understand.”

“Well, I don’t.” He sniffs and looks away. “I don’t get why you’d abandon your family.”

It hurts like a knife in the heart, sharp and sudden, but expected. Don’t get mad, he tells himself. He knows why Dean’s acting like this. He had just hoped for something better.

"How are you going to get there?"

"Bobby's waiting for me."

Dean scoffs, looking the other day.

“Don’t make this any harder for me.” Don’t stand in my way, big brother. Let me go.

Dean hangs his head in his hand, then swings the other into the wall to his left. “Fine. Go, before I change my mind.” He steps further into the room, as if standing close to Sam will do just that. “Sammy?”

He turns around.

Dean comes at him so fast he thinks he’s going to attack. Instead, his brother’s arms wrap tight around Sam. He drops his bag to squeeze Dean around the shoulders, as Dean’s lips press hard against his, his hand gripping his the hair on the back of his head. He breathes in that familiar mix of leather, gasoline, and sweat, tastes the faint hint of beer on his lips. With his arms around his big brother, in that moment, he’s afraid he’ll lose courage, and won’t be able to let go. But it’s Dean that breaks their embrace, probably afraid for the same thing. He whispers into Sam’s ear. “You take care of yourself little brother. Or I’ll come find you and kick your ass.”

Sam laughs. “Yeah, sure, Dean. You, too.” He lets go reluctantly.

Sam opens the door and leaves before he can turn around to watch his brother’s temper explode. With each step, he feels lighter, more powerful. Free. He’s smiling despite the tears, out the door and letting it slam behind him as he heads to the street.

The air is chilly even for a spring night, and so foggy he can’t see the road ahead, but he knows Bobby is waiting at the end of the road, out of sight of John. As he hits the concrete, Bobby flashes the lights and Sam heads for the car. Crashing and yelling explodes from the house. He doesn’t have to look back to know it’s Dean destroying everything in the room.

He keeps walking.

He doesn’t have to listen to know that John is coming down the stairs to tell his son to calm down and act like a man.

Sam wants to protect Dean, but he keeps walking. He’s made his choice. He’s got the one life, and he’s the only one who can pay for his decisions. It may be dark, with only the headlights to light his way, but he isn’t scared. For the first time in his life, he’s on his own and optimistic. He can see it now, up ahead, a someone waiting for him with a wide smile that lights up the room; a degree and the dean of the college shaking his hand. He chokes back the tears and hops in the pick up. He can do this, and no one can stop him.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked! Any comments/constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.


End file.
